New and Improved
by danceswithnorhythm
Summary: Pansy is very good at running. But has she been running for nothing? She returns home to help her best friend plan her wedding and finds that the past was never chasing her, but waiting for her to return to it. A story about a woman who was a cruel girl. A woman who is tired of running and tired of letting the past dictate her future.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm NOT Dead! I just lost the motivation to write for a while. I really don't have any other explanation. Life has gotten in the way once again. But, I'm back! So… party? I'll bring the chips and dip!**

 **Now, I know that I'm supposed to be writing Not Quite So Boring, but this wouldn't leave my brain. I'm sorry. I had to get it out. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I own a scooter that I can't drive right now due to a shoulder injury. Isn't life grand?**

"So, how is New York?"

Pansy snapped herself out of her stupor and looked up to see the wide eyes of Looney (Luna! Don't call her Looney out loud or else Theo will make that face that looks as if he's sipped wine that has gone sour.) Pansy couldn't remember ever telling Luna that she was in New York, but she supposed that she must've been filled in by Daphne at some point.

"New York is lovely. Not as cold. Not as wet," Pansy answered succinctly. She wasn't very interested in maintaining conversation with Theo's wife. To be honest, the former Ravenclaw made her more than a little uncomfortable with her unblinking eyes. And, Pansy was still more than a little upset that she hadn't been invited to their wedding. Sure, she wasn't the best of friends with Theo Nott during her time at Hogwarts, but she still felt slighted that EVERYONE was invited except for her. Even Millicent Bulstrode, the fucking cow, received an invitation. The only consolation was that Daphne reported to her that dear, fat Millie wore what could've been best described as a burlap sack.

"I've heard that there has been a recent influx of daminke laners in the States. Tell me, has your number of sexual partners increased in the past few weeks?" Luna asked her with those penetrating eyes of hers.

Pansy only stared at her for a few moments before downing the drink in her hand and walking away. She definitely wasn't drunk enough to have that conversation and any response that she could give while sober would've had Theo, who was usually so stoic, outright glaring at her.

Pansy's too expensive and too high heels clicked as she walked towards the bar that was set up in Potter's kitchen. She scoffed at his selection but reached out her manicured hand for the firewhiskey. She poured it into a glass that was more suited for holding pumpkin juice than whiskey, and gulped it down.

She wasn't exactly welcomed here and she knew it. She could feel the tension the moment that she showed up and she could see the forced smiles (and blatant glares) when she made eye contact with anyone in the room.

Pansy Parkinson, the girl that had suggested that Harry Potter, _the_ Harry Potter, be turned over to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, had fled Wizarding Britain the moment that she could. Her family, while not openly supporting the genocidal madman, had decided to financially back him. Her father, David Parkinson, had exhausted the little fortune that the Parkinson family had to remain out of Azkaban and Pansy realizing that there was nothing left for her in Britain, decided to leave for the States to start anew.

New York had been good to Pansy. Pansy, who went by Piper Peters in New York, worked as an interior designer for New York's wizarding elite. They were, after all, the only people who could afford her. She was independent, she lived an exciting life with many acquaintances and she dated often. She was a completely different person across the Atlantic. She was desirable. But, on this side of the pond…

Pansy filled her glass again and took a deep breath before downing it again. She could get through this. Daphne was one of her only friends. When you have enough friends to count on one hand and one of these friends ask you to be a bridesmaid, you accept. Even if you should've been maid-of-honor. Even if the maid-of-honor happened to be dating your ex-boyfriend. Even if you had to pretend that the maid-of-honor's hair didn't look like it was prepared to have baby birds hatch in it at a moment's notice.

Pansy had skipped out on the engagement party, but she couldn't miss out on the wedding shower and so there she stood contemplating another glass of whiskey. Pansy wouldn't have minded talking with Daphne, but she was currently speaking with Granger and Longbottom, two people that were definitely not big fans of Pansy. Pansy thought that it might be funny to inject herself into whatever conversation that they were having just to see their easy smiles become more strained with the passing seconds, but decided against it. That was the OLD Pansy. Not the new and IMPROVED Pansy. The New Pansy would only stand by the bar looking like a runway model and think about how much she could go for a nice glass of tequila.

"Pansy. You're looking well." Pansy looked up from her empty glass into the dark eyes of Blaise Zabini.

"I am," Pansy agreed, looking at the selection of alcohol again, hoping to find something, anything, that wasn't firewhiskey. Blaise laughed and poured himself a drink.

"I saw that you were speaking to Luna. What did you think?" Blaise asked, his eyes sparkling.

"She has a nice… nose. Very straight," Pansy commented, straining for something positive to say.

"Really? That's the best you can do?" Blaise teased.

"The woman has seashells in her hair. I'm trying my very best, here," Pansy confessed.

"She grows on you, oddly enough," Blaise told her truthfully. "Took me a while, but I really do like her. She's a lot smarter than she lets on." Pansy chose not to comment, thinking of nothing nice to say.

"I've missed quite a bit. Granger and Daphne are wearing friendship bracelets and Draco and Potter look like they're on the brink of brotherhood. I won't be surprised if Tracey Davis shows up with a bottle of that elvish wine she used to make herself sick with in 6th year," Pansy commented.

One of the many redheads at the wedding shower decided to, at that moment, walk towards the bar to presumably grab a drink. They took one look at Pansy, sneered, and decided against the trip, deciding that being anywhere near her wasn't worth the effort. Pansy returned a sneer of her own and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"I suppose some things haven't changed," Pansy sniffed, her nose in the air.

"That wasn't directed at you. That was definitely directed at me," Blaise told her before drinking his glass of amber liquid. "That family is going to turn me into an alcoholic."

Pansy raised a perfect eyebrow at him. "You mean, you aren't already an alcoholic. I was sure that you'd already crossed that threshold."

"Alcoholism isn't a joke, Pansy," Blaise told her as he poured himself another drink. Pansy shrugged her shoulders and watched him down his glass.

"I was caught fucking Ginny Weasley in the storage closet of her brother's joke shop," Blaise said as if this wasn't the most exciting news that Pansy had heard in months. He could've been talking about the weather or the lowering prices of Skele-gro.

Pansy had so many questions to ask she didn't know which one to ask first. So, all she said was "Ew."

"Ew?" Blaise asked, clearly insulted. "None of the girls I fuck can be described as 'ew'. Storage closet or not she is definitely not 'ew'. She has the most amazing tits that I've ever had in my mouth and I'll have you know that the tongue on that woman is-,"

Pansy walked away from Blaise before she could hear the end of his sentence. Pansy could pass on hearing Blaise going into detail on any of his sexual conquests. Especially if that conquest was a WEASLEY. The Parkinson's may have fallen out of favor in the public eye, but she'd be damned if having sex with a Weasley wasn't something to bow your head in shame over.

Pansy thought about leaving. Surely she had been there long enough for it not to be considered rude, right? Even if it wasn't, she couldn't fathom staying there too much longer. Her cocktail dress had been wasted on this event. She didn't fit in here anymore. She would say goodbye to Daphne before leaving and then she'd go to the nearest respected establishment to buy enough tequila to take down a giant.

"Having a good time?" Pansy turned her attention from the floo across the room to Hermione Granger who was standing behind her.

"A lovely time," Pansy lied easily.

"I'm glad. I know this probably isn't what you're used to, living in New York now and all," Hermione commented, smiling at her. It definitely wasn't. But that was because she didn't know anyone in New York that was married. It was all emotionless hookups and divorcees and alimony checks going towards impressive bar tabs.

"I'm just happy that Daphne is happy," Pansy said, not quite a lie but not quite the truth. She _was_ happy that Daphne was happy. However, she'd be happier if she didn't have to come to Godric's Hollow ever again.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that the other bridesmaids and myself are going to go out for lunch later this week. We need to make some decisions about the Hen Night as well as discuss bridesmaids designs." Pansy looked Hermione up and down before thanking Merlin that there would be a discussion about bridesmaid dresses. If her current attire were anything to go by, they'd look as bad as Millicent Bulstrode did at the Nott wedding.

"Lovely. Owl me the details. I'm staying at-,"

"I thought I recognized that voice. I hardly recognized you without a glass of something strong enough to kill your liver in one sip in your hand."

Pansy's eyes narrowed at the sight of her ex-boyfriend. Boyfriend wasn't the correct term to describe Draco Malfoy. He was… a waste of time and energy. For more years than Pansy would be comfortable enough to admit to anyone who didn't bill hundreds of galleons an hour to listen to people complain, she fancied herself in love with the blonde heir of the Malfoy family and fortune. Turns out, she was more in love with the bottomless pit of galleons and the promise of a long life of luxury than she could have ever been with him. And he was only in love with what Pansy was alway so eager to give him in the Slytherin boy's dorm after everyone else was asleep.

Hermione hit her boyfriend on the arm and demanded that he apologize to Pansy that instant. But before he could get another word out, Pansy retaliated with her own comments.

"Draco! Merlin, it's so good to see that you're eating again. You've filled out quite a bit. But, if I were you, I'd make sure to get out on the quidditch pitch more often. You'll lose sight of your toes, amongst other things, if you continue on the road you're on," Pansy quipped.

Draco wasn't fat. Nowhere near it. But she knew that Draco was very self-absorbed and vain. Any attack on his physical appearance would be like a stab to his dark little heart.

Instead, all Draco did was laugh while Hermione's mouth hung open in shock at the exchange.

"It's really good to see you, Pansy," Draco said. Pansy raised an eyebrow at him, not sure if he were joking or not.

"No. That's not how this is supposed to go. Now would be the moment that you called me a disease infected whore and then I would comment on how the dark circles under your eyes could be covered up easily with a quick cover-up charm. What are you doing?"

"Well, everyone already knows that you're a disease infected whore. Luna's been telling everyone about the dangers of daminke laners. Did you know that they've migrated to New York?" Draco asked, taking a sip from his drink.

"Lovely."

"Draco Malfoy, you apologize!" Hermione admonished him.

"What?! She knows that I'm joking! That's how we bond," Draco told her, a playful smile on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance and Draco laughed at her reaction. Pansy actually had to fight the giggle that bubbled in her chest.

"I'll never understand why you all don't just have normal conversations like normal people. Why must you always insult and berate each other?" Hermione sniffed, clearly not impressed with the relationships amongst the Slytherins.

"This is nothing. One time we talked Graham Montague to pursue a relationship with Blaise's mom," Draco told her. Hermione turned a sad look towards Blaise who was still standing by the bar.

"Why would you do that to poor Blaise?" Hermione asked.

"Because it was funny?" Draco said, even though it sounded more like a question.

"And I think you're mistaken, Granger. The victim in that little prank wasn't Blaise. It was definitely Graham. Poor guy. Found himself in love with a black widow," Pansy told her. With every word she said, Hermione looked more and more uncomfortable.

"We didn't let it get too far!" Draco said quickly, noticing the look on Hermione's face. "I thought you enjoyed a good prank."

"That's too far of a prank!"

"Ok, explain to me how that was worse than the time that you-,"

"That was different and you know it! She deserved it and worse!"

Not comfortable being in the middle of this lover's spat any longer, Pansy looked around trying to find Daphne. Although she and Draco were never meant to be, she liked to think that there were no hard feelings left on her part. While she might've thought herself to be in love with him in her younger years, she couldn't fathom being with the prat now. They argued way too much. They had very little in common except for their upbringings and she adored her life in New York. She couldn't see a life where Draco would leave Britain; not for her, anyway.

Besides, Astoria Greengrass was in attendance at the shower. If Astoria could be there and still remain civil with Draco, (there hadn't been a single hex thrown) then Pansy could surely refrain from making a scene. She didn't consider herself to be a friend of Draco's, but she could handle being civil.

Astoria couldn't find Daphne in the large room where most of the guests were. She searched for the honey blonde hair of her best friend, but was only met with Draco and Luna's platinum heads (both of whom Pansy had no inclination to start another conversation with).

Pansy started to walk towards the hallway, hoping to find Daphne in the kitchen, but on the way, she could feel someone's eyes burning into her back. Pansy stopped mid-step and turned around to see one of the Weasleys glaring at her. It wasn't the girl. It wasn't the skinny one with glasses. And she was almost certain that it wasn't the one with only one ear. _One. Two._ Yep. Two ears.

Having had too much alcohol to be in her right state of mind and being too sober to not care what was going on around her, Pansy decided that enough was enough. Who did this guy think he was? Was it… John? She couldn't remember. But she was sure that it didn't matter all that much what his name was. She strutted her way towards him, head held high and heels clicking with every step.

"John, is it?" she asked him, her nose in the air. Although he was taller than her, Pansy knew exactly how to look down at him. His glare intensified.

"Ron," he deadpanned, clearly not happy with the fact that she had gotten his name wrong.

"Weasley, may I ask you why you're staring at me?" Pansy asked, completely ignoring his name. "If you were interested in speaking with me, all you had to do was walk up to me. Undressing me with your eyes is hardly polite."

Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes. Pansy knew that he wasn't interested in her sexually, but she was trying to ruffle his feathers. But, the look of disgust plastered on his face was still a bit insulting. She wasn't interested in him either, but if she were, he should be so lucky! He should be on his knees praying and begging for 10 minutes of her time. Better men than him had been reduced to far less at the prospect of receiving her affection.

"No, thank you. I've talked to Luna today. Have you heard of daminke laners? I hear that they're running rampant in-,"

"Why have you and your lot been glaring at me all night?" she asked him, no longer interested in the verbal sparring.

"You're imagining things. No one's been glaring at you all night," Ron argued, the look of disgust still plastered on his face. Pansy wanted to scratch the look of disgust off of his face.

"You were just glaring at me Weasley. Don't play dumb. If you're just playing after all," Pansy retorted. The glare returned to Ron's face and Pansy nearly smiled in satisfaction. She'd gotten rid of his ugly expression without even ruining her manicure.

"I was glaring at _him_ ," Ron said, tilting his head up to point to where Blaise was standing near the entrance of the hallway talking to another redhead, this one definitely a woman. "But, I'm glaring at you now."

Pansy supposed that Blaise was right. He _had_ been the one that was getting all of the negative attention. Pansy could feel herself start to blush. She was _sure_ that she had been the center of attention, even if it was negative.

Pansy, not one to apologize or fluster when she's wrong, let a smirk spread across her face.

"Perhaps you should focus on whether there have been any daminke laners flitting and flying around your sister's house," Pansy said harshly. Ron's eyes flashed towards Blaise and the other Weasley before returning back to Pansy.

"Why does it have to be him? He's so… slimy," Ron commented, almost as if asking himself.

"Well, he's got a really big cock, for one thing," Pansy answered, smiling at the repulsed look on Ron Weasley's face.

"Why would you tell me that?" Ron asked in horror.

Pansy shrugged. "It's not my fault that you fail to see your sister as a sexual being."

"Have sex with him too, then, have you?" Ron asked her. Pansy shrugged again. They didn't have sex, really. In her brokenhearted despair, Pansy had tried to "get back" at Draco by engaging in sexual relations with one of his friends. It hadn't gone past heavy petting before she was finally disgusted with herself.

"He's really not that bad of a guy. There are worse men to get caught in a supply closet with than Blaise Zabini," Pansy told him, still enjoying the look of discomfort on his face.

"It was me, you know. Who caught them. I almost begged Daphne to _Obliviate_ me. Told her that it was her job as a Healer to fix the afflicted," Ron said, a faraway look on his face. Pansy laughed.

"I'm guessing that she refused," Pansy said, not realizing that she had started to enjoy herself.

"I thought you lot were supposed to have a total disregard for the rules and whatnot. ' _I don't want to do that to you, Ron. You'll just have to deal with it on your own, Ron. That's against the law, Ron._ ' I think she's doing it just to be cruel, if I'm being honest."

Pansy shook her head, her shoulders shaking with repressed giggles. "Why didn't you ask Potter to do it?"

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed. "Harry's not going to do it if Daphne won't. They're a "team". Which I guess means letting your best mate suffer."

"I'm pretty sure that Draco and Potter are best mates now," Pansy commented offhandedly. Ron's eyes narrowed at her for only a moment before he broke out into an easy smile.

"How would you know? You haven't been here in years, from what I hear," Ron told her. Pansy nearly huffed. She realized that she was trying to get a rise out of Ron, but it wasn't as nearly as easy as she thought it would be. She was slowly starting to become bored again.

"Oh? Am I often the topic of conversation, then?" Pansy asked him, pretending not to care what the answer was. She hadn't really garnered as much attention as she initially anticipated, and she was kind of let down by the lack of fanfare for her arrival.

Ron shrugged. "Sometimes. But, the conversations usually revolve around how happy everyone is that you're not around and isn't it great that Daphne chose Hermione to be her maid of honor and not Pansy because that would be a right disaster, wouldn't it?"

Pansy's eyes narrowed at the tall redhead. She supposed that she had riled him more than she originally thought.

"You're not a very nice person," she told him plainly. He wasn't allowed to be mean to her. NO ONE was allowed to be mean to her. Especially not some gangly Weasley with poor fashion sense. Although, she supposed that being a Weasley already meant that he lacked any sense of fashion. Pansy wanted to light Ron's shirt on fire. He should know better than to wear red!

"I'm nice!" Ron argued. "You asked so I answered!"

"You could've lied to me. I would've rather you lied to me," Pansy snapped. She nearly stomped her foot, but she refrained. She wasn't going to be made to look like a petulant child. Not with so many witnesses around. That was the OLD Pansy. NEW Pansy wasn't a foot stomper.

"Lying isn't nice," Ron told her plainly.

Pansy looked around the room at all of the people that were here to celebrate the union of Potter and Daphne. She recognized most of them, having gone to school with them. And she found that she didn't want to talk to any of them. Theodore was talking to Looney… Luna Lovegood, Blaise was busy with his own Weasley, and Draco was with Hermione and laughing with the Minister of Magic for Merlin's sake. If she left she wouldn't be missed.

But, Ron was also alone. Weren't his friends there also. There were plenty of other Weasleys there, and yet he had only been talking to Pansy for the past ten minutes. He didn't look as if he was any hurry to start a conversation with anyone else either.

Pansy took a good look at Ron. He was tall with red hair of course. But, he wasn't as gangly as she had suspected earlier. His face was covered in freckles and for a brief moment, Pansy wondered how much area his freckles covered. And his eyes… His eyes were bright blue, cerulean.

Pansy felt a wave of envy hit her. Pansy's dark brown eyes were always something that Pansy wished she could permanently change. A dark blue or a light green would suit her well. The only other thing that Pansy hated on her face was…

"Why are you covering your nose?" Ron asked her, that angry look on his face that was supposed to represent confusion.

"Because you smell like the back end of a dragon," Pansy quipped easily, ashamed that she had brought attention to her stupid nose.

Ron rolled his eyes but didn't say anything back to her. He just looked around the room, most likely looking for someone else to talk to; someone with a nose that wasn't shaped like a pig's.

"Why are you standing here by yourself?" Pansy asked him, hoping to distract him from his search. Ron wasn't the best company, but he was the only company that she had.

"I'm not by myself, unfortunately," he grumbled, his eyes still moving across the room. Pansy nearly stomped her foot again. How did she become so desperate for conversation that she had been reduced to this.

"I meant before I graced you with my presence," Pansy said slowly, as if she were talking to a three-year-old.

Ron shrugged. "Not really in the mood to socialize. I've got a lot of things going on. I'm just here to show my face, drop off my present, and go home."

Pansy let a slow smile spread across her face. So, she wasn't the only one who wasn't in the partying mood. And what luck that she would be talking to the only other person who would rather be anywhere else.

"Then why are you still here?" she wondered aloud, not sure if she were asking Ron or herself.

"Because if I left, then you wouldn't have anyone to talk to. And maybe you'd find yourself stumbling through another awkward conversation with Malfoy, and I don't think anyone can stand another debacle such as that," Ron told her, a smile plastered on his stupid face.

Pansy's jaw dropped for a brief seconds before she recovered. Who knew that Ron would know the word "debacle"?

"Saw that, did you?" Pansy asked dumbly. Ron laughed and nodded. "It wasn't so bad!" Pansy said a bit too loudly. She looked around quickly to make sure that no one had noticed. Ron only laughed harder.

"Well, that was a laugh. This has been great fun, but I'm leaving," Ron told her after his laughing had ceased. Pansy wasn't sure if he genuinely had fun talking with her or if he was just being facetious.

Pansy nearly pouted at the thought of being left there alone. She didn't want to stand around and look like a loner but to avoid doing that, she'd have to socialize which was completely out of the question if she had anything to say about it.

"You can come with me, if you want," Ron said quietly. Pansy nearly missed it as she was so caught up in her own thoughts. Did he just-?

"What?" Pansy asked dumbly.

Ron, up until that point, had exuded confidence that Pansy hadn't expected. However, at that moment, he reminded her of a unicorn just born standing on its legs for the first time. She had never seen someone so awkward.

"What else are you going to do here?" he asked her. Pansy thought on that. She was nearly bored to tears without Ron to occupy her time. But, she didn't necessarily need him for entertainment outside of the confines of the wedding shower. But, then again…

Perhaps there really was a daminke laners infestation in New York and she had been properly bitten.

Another slow dangerous smile found its way on Pansy's face. "Let me just say goodbye to Daphne."

 **-x-**

 **Should I make this into a thing? I think I will! Let me know what you think!**

 **I'll get right back to writing NQSB, so stay tuned for that!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. But if I did, I'd also own a nice apartment in New York.**

 **Thank you for all of the reviews! I won't keep you from reading any longer! Enjoy!**

"I didn't know that you could cook!" Pansy exclaimed loudly once Ron placed a plate stir fry in front of her.

"Yes, because you know so much about me already," Ron mumbled under his breath. However, Pansy could hear him clear as day. Instead of replying, Pansy stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork and popped it into her mouth.

When Ron told her that he wanted to take her home, she hadn't expected for him to cook for her. She expected to be thrown onto the bed, undressed, and quickly fucked. But, Pansy supposed that this was a good idea too. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until Ron started to cook and she could hear the sounds of sizzling meat and the smells of sesame oil and vegetables. But, to be fair, Pansy would always be able to eat a plate of stir-fry whether she hadn't eaten for days or had only eaten a few minutes prior.

Pansy moaned in pleasure and Ron laughed. "You like it?" he asked, even though Pansy was sure that he already knew the answer. Pansy didn't waste time answering, she only popped broccoli in her mouth. Ron continued to laugh as he sat down across from her at his small kitchen table.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both enjoying their late meal. Pansy was a bit jealous. She was never a very good cook. She never put much effort into learning household charms and to do chores the muggle way were draining. She constantly ate take-out while living in New York; it was much easier to do than to attempt and fail at cooking.

"How did you learn to cook?" she asked Ron, genuinely curious. Ron shrugged, lifting his gaze from his nearly empty plate. Pansy had to fight to keep the disgusted look off of her face. Did the man even chew? It was like he had inhaled his meal! She was more than a little repulsed.

"I guess I taught myself," Ron replied, thankfully after his mouth was no longer full. "I like to eat and getting take-away every night can be expensive. So, I got some cookbooks… well, Hermione gave me some cookbooks… and now I know how to make stuff."

Pansy had cookbooks too. But she couldn't remember if she had actually ever touched them. She was sure that they were collecting dust on her kitchen counter.

"I'm surprised that you really like it. I hardly ever cook for anyone else besides myself," Ron commented before placing his empty plate in the kitchen sink.

"It was delicious. Much better than I would've been able to do. Not that that's saying much. I burn water," Pansy said honestly. Ron laughed, leaning against the kitchen counter and staring at Pansy with his arms crossing his chest.

"Are you admitting that you're bad at something? I wouldn't take you for the type to be aware of your own faults," Ron said, an easy smile on his face that made Pansy feel uncomfortable in the best way.

"Yes, because you know so much about me already," Pansy parroted back at Ron. Ron's smile only grew wider and Pansy feigned insult. "I'll have you know that I'm hyper aware of my faults. I just don't go around sharing them with other people."

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment and smiled at Pansy. "I have terrible table manners."

Pansy nodded her head in agreement. She didn't need him to tell her that. She had just witnessed it. His elbows were on the table, he ate his food as if it were going to disappear before his very eyes, and he used the back of his hand as a napkin.

"Yes. I'm aware," Pansy agreed.

"Ok. Now you tell me something," Ron prompted.

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. What did he expect for her to tell him? She didn't have anything to share with him. She thought that she would be invited over for rough sex. Although the stir-fry was a nice surprise, she wasn't fond of the sharing portion of the evening.

"I just said that I don't go around sharing my faults with other people," Pansy sneered.

"But I told you one of mine," Ron argued.

"Yes, but you really didn't need to. I didn't ask you to and I sat here and watched you eat. For the love of Merlin, a blind man would've been repulsed."

Ron snapped his fingers as if a thought had just struck him. He pointed his finger at Pansy and said "I got one. You're mean."

Pansy's jaw dropped in shock. She was being on her very best behavior. Why was she being called mean? She hadn't even pointed out how small Ron's flat was or the tacky rug that laid in the middle of the kitchen. She had been nice enough to not speak about the fact that two of his kitchen table chairs didn't match the other two!

"Wha- I'm not mean!" Pansy flustered, genuinely confused about the label.

"I feed you and you won't even tell me another fault of yours. That's kinda mean," Ron teased her.

Pansy scoffed in annoyance and disbelief. "Okay, Weasley… I didn't even ask you to feed me! You decided to cook for me! I came over here for sex! You're the one who decided to play chef for 30 minutes and shit."

Ron looked thoughtful for a few moments before opening his mouth to speak again. "You're just over here for sex?"

Pansy nodded her head quickly and stood up. She grabbed her purse from the back of the chair that she was sitting on, and placed the strap over her shoulder. If she wasn't going to get laid, then what the hell was she still doing there? The food was good, but she could've just as easily gone to get a burger or something.

"So, the food and the talking… that doesn't interest you? Just the-"

"-sex. Yes," Pansy confirmed.

Ron nodded his head thoughtfully before taking one large step toward her. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn't a chaste kiss. It was the kind of kiss that was probably illegal in some countries. The kind of kiss that mothers would shield their children's eyes from. The kind of kiss that Pansy would have never thought to share with a Weasley.

Ron groped and grabbed and Pansy let him. She hadn't even realized that he had backed her up until the kitchen counter was digging into her back. She let her purse fall from her shoulder and she was mildly aware of it hitting the floor. Thousands of dollars on Ron Weasley's ugly kitchen rug.

Ron lifted her up and set her down on the kitchen counter, never once breaking the kiss. Pansy couldn't deny that Ron was an amazing kisser and she had had her share of experts. If he kissed like this, she was all too eager to see how good he was at other things…

 **That cliffhanger though… I'm not sorry! I know I haven't updated in a while, but things have been hectic. I'm graduating on the 17th so I need to wrap up a few more assignments before I'm a productive member of society.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm planning to continue the story. Originally, I thought that I might make it a one-shot… but the demand was too high to expand it. And… my mind wouldn't let me rest until I wrote some more. This. Is. Not. The. End.**

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


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